


This Moment

by Zillo



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Everyone Is A Consenting Adult, F/M, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Hot Sex, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Obi-Wan likes making everyone happy, Oral Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, established relationships - Freeform, everyone has a lot of sex in the SW universe, fluffy sex, he uses sex to do it, it's not like he gets nothing out of this either, sex equals affection for Obi-Wan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-15 12:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16063571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zillo/pseuds/Zillo
Summary: They’re in the middle of a war and despite his best efforts to hide it, Obi-Wan sometimes feels like he might lose everything. He’s always had his own manner of expressing affection for those who form his most intimate circle of relationships. Here and now, all he can afford to give is himself and in return he takes everything they are willing to offer.





	1. Obi-Wan/Anakin

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of short smutty pieces. As it stands, there are five fics all involving Obi-Wan and someone he cares about. I may write more someday, but expect a new chapter every couple of days for now.
> 
> If it's in the tags but not here: don't worry, it will be soon.
> 
> Disclaimer - Not mine.

**01\. Obi-Wan/Anakin**

Anakin treats sex much the same way he treats flying or fighting—with a whole-hearted focus that verges on overwhelming. Perhaps Obi-Wan should be concerned at the way his partner loses himself in passion and emotion, but the result benefits him far too much. Truthfully, too, it gives him reason to lose himself to the same.

Anakin is also utterly insistent on using a bed, so it’s just as well they both have quarters of their own. They can afford to be discrete, spending much of their downtime in one room or another. Sex is the goal, but more than once they’ve begun what they can’t complete: one or both of them falling asleep, knowing they are surrounded by the safe and familiar.

Tonight, Obi-Wan has just finished examining Anakin’s injuries—nothing serious, but likely a few days of discomfort. They’ve already got the scolding out of the way, this is more for Obi-Wan's reassurance than anything, and once he’s done he leans forward to press a light kiss to an unblemished spot of skin on Anakin’s right shoulder. He’s delighted by the way the muscles flex and the soft hum he receives in response.

He braces his weight, gently on his lover’s waist and presses another to the corner of his lips. “Is this all right?” He slides his hands across Anakin’s bare torso, mindful of his injuries and down to finger the waistband of his sleep pants. Normally, he wouldn’t hesitate to dip below, but he’s wary of inadvertently causing pain.

Anakin’s eyes flutter closed, angling his head up for a proper kiss. “Please,” he says. He reaches out to lay his flesh hand flat against Obi-Wan’s stomach, mechanic one cupping Obi-Wan’s hip.

Their kisses become deeper and more heated as they stretch out on the bed until Obi-Wan finds himself on his back on a lumpy, narrow mattress, Anakin bracing himself on his elbow above him. Careful of his lover’s injuries, Obi-Wan runs his hands up his back, fingers tracing his spine, keeping their bodies close.

In response, Anakin rocks his pelvis into his so he can feel the hardening length that answers his own. “Want you.”

“Yeah.” Obi-Wan is surprised by his own breathlessness. But he gently guides Anakin up, so they can remove their sleep pants, leaving them both completely nude.

The lube is kept between the bed frame and the mattress, anticipation leaves his fingers fumbling for it, nearly dropping it, but he brings it out. “Do you want the honours, or shall I?”

Anakin kisses him quick. “I want to watch you.”

Obi-Wan licks his lips, moistening them. He flicks the lid off the tube and squeezes a generous amount out on to his hands. He pumps his own cock a few times, but stops when it starts to bead at the tip—it’s much too early, yet. Another dollop of lube and he slides his hand between his legs and back until he reaches his tight, puckered opening.

Lightly, he traces it, looking up to meet Anakin’s heady gaze, making sure his lover is watching as he slips a finger past tight muscle. He moans softly at the intrusion, and Anakin swallows, throat moving. He runs a hand up the inside of Obi-Wan’s leg, stopping short of where the older man is sliding a second finger into himself.

Obi-Wan doesn’t waste too much time, just makes sure the muscles are relaxed and loose enough to continue. Once he is open enough, he pulls them away, squirts a little more on to his hands and then reaches for Anakin’s erection, slicking him up with several long pulls. The tube falls away as they come together in a deep kiss.

Tilting his hips up, Obi-Wan feels Anakin probing at his entrance before slowly pushing in, taking his time. Obi-Wan lets him take control, their groans mingling together. But it can’t be maintained, so he tucks his legs over Anakin’s, heels hooked against his thighs as the other man thrusts into him. One hand braces against Anakin’s hip, the other clings to his shoulder as he meets stroke for stroke, angling his hips for deeper penetration until each thrust is hitting exactly where he wants it. 

Obi-Wan spends endless minutes just lost in the waves of pleasure that each motion brings, able to do nothing more than hold on and enjoy. He marvels how sex between them can be so frequent—he somehow finds his way to Anakin’s bed most often—and yet never become routine. Even as their bodies are familiar to one another, their tastes and their desires unchanged, they can still drown themselves in mutual pleasure.

He looks up to find Anakin studying him intently, eyes dark and mesmerising. To be the subject of such focus is intoxicating, almost overpowering—the knowledge that it is himself and himself alone that Anakin is thinking about. When he can’t stand it anymore, he angles his head up and steals a kiss from his lover’s lips, deep and slow to match their joining; to his relief, Anakin’s eyes flutter closed, lashes coming to rest on his cheeks.

When breathing becomes a necessity, they break apart, and Anakin thankfully drops his head to rest in the curve of Obi-Wan’s neck, gently pressing kisses to his collarbone.

With his weight propped on his right arm, Anakin slides his left hand between them to take Obi-Wan’s length in hand. The firm grasp provides a counterpoint to the sharp pleasure of Anakin buried within him, and the rising tide of building heat. With only a couple of strokes, Obi-Wan is tumbling over the edge gasping his lover’s name, feeling himself spill across their joined bodies.

A few moments to find himself back to his body and then he’s cradling his lover’s head, whispering light kisses on every meagre inch of skin he can find. “It’s all right, beloved, you can let go.” Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t allow the endearment to pass his lips, but with only a breath of space between them he lets it slip.

Anakin comes with a wordless cry, body pumping into Obi-Wan, Force ringing with the power of his orgasm. Then, spent, he collapses, body limp, breathing harsh.

Obi-Wan combs fingers through Anakin’s hair and kisses his neck and shoulders, waiting for him to catch his breath and regain his senses. It doesn’t take long. After a minute or two, Anakin slides from Obi-Wan’s body, leaving him aching, empty and sated.

The younger man rolls off him and on to his side. Obi-Wan turns to face him, reaching out to cup his cheek. He kisses him, slow and deep. “That was wonderful.”

Anakin smiles. “Any time.” He wriggles closer but then stops with a grimace. “Shower?”

Reluctant to let his lover stray too far and liking the idea of warm water against aching muscles, Obi-Wan agrees. “Excellent idea.”


	2. Obi-Wan/Padmé (Obi-Wan/Padmé/Anakin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly O/P with a hint of O/P/A thrown in for good measure. This is also the shortest chapter.

Even on Coruscant one can find peace and sanctuary. The Jedi Temple is one such place, of course, but there are others. For Obi-Wan, Padmé Amidala’s apartment is another.

He is not alone in this, of course (and nor are he and Padmé alone at this moment). And he suspects this tacit near approval of Anakin’s choices aren’t wise. But here, in the darkened apartment, the only lights filtering in from the city outside, Obi-Wan is not prepared to offer judgement on anyone else’s life.

He’s on Padmé’s couch, with the Senator in his lap, facing outwards, warm heat engulfing his length. She’s dressed in a filmy piece of lingerie that floats around her body, both concealing and revealing her in the most tantalising ways. Her knees are pressing into the couch beside his thighs and she’s using the position for leverage, pushing her hips up and out and then down and in.

Her spine is arched back, and head tilted upwards and Obi-Wan knows if he could see them from above he’d see her eyes squeezed shut, her lips parted, perspiration beading on her forehead. Instead, he focuses his attention down, cupping her breasts through the fabric, massaging them, running his thumbs over her nipples, making her gasp.

He does adore how responsive she always is and ghosts his lips along her shoulder in appreciation.

Hands sliding down to her hips shifting her angle slightly, he looks across the room to catch a flash of blue. Anakin, shrouded in shadow, naked, is watching them, finding his own pleasure in sharing his two lovers with each other.

Padmé rolls her hips, muscles clamping down hard, drawing a groan of delight from Obi-Wan’s mouth. She twists a little and he finds her studying him, eyes bright, cheeks flushed with pleasure. “I’m glad you’re here,” she tells him.

For that he can’t help but kiss her, leaning up to find her lips. The angle isn’t the best, but he tries to convey his gratitude and the depth of emotion he feels for her.

Lightly, he skims his hands down, until he hits the hem of her negligee, stroking the silky skin of her thighs. Inch by inch he lifts it, the brush of his fingers making her moan softly. Finally, he reaches damp curls and the place where they join. Until now, Padmé hasn’t stopped moving, but as he lightly sweeps across that most intimate of connections, her whole body goes rigid.

“Obi-Wan, please,” she begs. Involuntarily her muscles tighten around him, and he blinks away stars.

“Show me.” He is not demanding, but even he can hear the note of command in his voice. Across the room, there is a soft grunt.

Her hands, so small and so soft, come down to cover his, guiding him a little higher, showing him where and how to touch her. His fingers slide over her slickened core, circling her clit, pressing down and running over it. Before long, the rhythm has her squirming and crying out.

“That’s it, beautiful,” he tells her, hoping she can hear the depth of his feeling through his tone. Out of the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan can see Anakin’s movements become uneven and sharp, his gaze never wavering from the pair on the couch.

In his lap, Padmé’s motions are becoming frantic, her body causing his pleasure, even as it seeks its own.

All of them reach completion in quick succession. Anakin first, shouting as he comes over his own hand; Padmé second, her cries mingling with her lover’s as body clamps down on Obi-Wan’s; he tumbles after her, only just managing to keep them both upright. They sit for long moments, still joined, a limp pile of awkward limbs, too relaxed to care.

Then Anakin is there, lifting her, helping her climb from Obi-Wan’s lap, settling her between the two of them, flicking a blanket out so they are all covered in its warmth.

Cuddled together, they spend hours with soft kisses and feather-light touches.


	3. Obi-Wan/Bail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, a bit later than I intended.

Bail’s desk is unusually clear for this time of day. Obi-Wan is grateful, as this means there is nothing to dig into him or for him to knock over.

Instead, he braces his weight on his arms, spreading his legs wider as Bail slides a second lubricated finger into him. He can’t help but groan at the intrusion, forehead dropping nearly to the polished wood of the desk.

“Okay?” the other man asks, pausing in his ministrations.

“Very much.” They haven’t been together in months and Obi-Wan has missed Bail.

Bail is careful but firm as he returns to working Obi-Wan, stretching him and lathering on lubricant until the Jedi is weak-kneed and panting. Finally, just when he thinks he can’t stand it any longer, Bail withdraws completely.

A low whine escapes his lips at the loss, but the soft rustle of fabric tells him the brief wait will be worth it. Sure enough, there’s soon something thick and blunt pressing at his opening and then pushing inside. He can feel the stretch and pull of his muscles as they give way for Bail’s length. That first breach seems to last forever, but eventually Bail comes to rest, fully engulfed by Obi-Wan.

“You feel incredible.” The Senator braces his weight with his hands gripping the edge of his desk, his voice strained, an audible tremor woven through it.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Obi-Wan’s own voice is none too steady. “But if you wouldn’t mind picking up the pace…” at the rate they’re going, he’s going to expire from sheer arousal.

Obediently, Bail pulls out. “Why, do you have somewhere to be?” He pushes in and pulls out a couple of times quickly, groaning when Obi-Wan tightens his muscles around him. In retribution, one hand strokes its way up the Jedi’s thighs until it can wrap around his erect cock. Slicked, the man’s hands are delightfully smooth and he knows exactly what’s he’s doing with them, fingers seeking and finding a sweet spot that leaves Obi-Wan hanging on the desk weakly.

“I have lunch with a charming older senator. Can’t miss it,” he eventually manages to gasp out. His breath stutters again as Bail’s next thrust hits his prostate. His eyes screwed shut, his fist curled until he can feel his fingernails biting into his palm. Every motion brings a new wave of pleasure and he soaks it in, knowing what he’s offering is equal.

The Senator is not his most frequent lover but is one whom he’s had for a long time and they’re familiar with the hum and pull of each other in a way that is as comforting as it is enjoyable. Truthfully, he’d arrived early for lunch, hoping for this eventuality and had been pleased to find that Bail was expecting him.

At his words, Bail gives his cock a particularly hard squeeze. “Older? I’ll give you _older_.” His thrusts are harder and faster now, Obi-Wan’s hips jerking in time, meeting him with each stroke. 

They both lose the ability to speak for a while after that, concentrating on the building of pressure between them. And build it does, to a point where Obi-Wan is sure he can’t bear it any longer and then it comes crashing down around him. He rides out the orgasm, body pulsing in time with his lover’s, but unable to actively respond.

When he comes back to himself, he finds Bail’s thrusts have become erratic as the Alderaani senator seeks the same release moments later. He comes with a shout, burying himself one last time in Obi-Wan.

They remain joined as their breathing settles and their racing hearts quieten. Finally, though, Bail withdraws and they both dress, hands tangling as they help each other with ties and buckles and straightening of outfits. They both end up looking only slightly worse for wear as Obi-Wan gently tugs Bail’s collar into place and Bail combs his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair.

Propping himself on the edge of Bail’s desk, Obi-Wan hides a wince—the pull of muscles is an easy price to pay for the pleasure it brought about. He tugs Bail in for a kiss, slow and deep. “It’s good to see you, my friend.”

“And you.” Bail’s voice is a rumble inside his chest and his eyes are warm and lit with emotion. He kisses Obi-Wan again. “Now, what was that about lunch?”


End file.
